


Chasing Happiness

by NarryMusings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Narry - Freeform, PopStar!Niall, Storan, narry storan - Freeform, small-town-boy!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:43:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2405591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryMusings/pseuds/NarryMusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall is a popstar, gone to find his happiness in Hollywood and Harry is just his best friend back home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> Hii. 
> 
> Here's another. I think this is actually one of the first (if not THE first) Narry story I ever wrote. Which is why I'm going to apologize if it's a bit weak and/or cliche.
> 
> This is a companion piece to another Im going to try to post tomorrow, neither of which have to be read to follow the other. They're just similar in the one-boy-leaves-the-other-at-home plot.
> 
> Tumblr: narrymusings

"And the winner for Breakout Artist of the Year goes too..."

Harry watches, with bated breath, waiting for the current presenter on the American Music Award show to name the winner. He hates this part. He truly hates the waiting game they always play, those five, six, seven seconds of unadulterated, painstaking anxiety before they finally announce the winner. 

It's for Breakout Artist of the Year and Niall is up against some of the best solo artists and bands in the world right now. Harry feels like he's going to throw up because he knows how much Niall wants this – needs this – and he can't even imagine what's going through Niall's mind right now. Is he sick? Is he going to pass out from the anxiety? Is he hyperventilating like the time they waited for the results of their Eighth Grade Talent Show? (Niall had won the talent show, by the way.)

Harry leans forward, staring intently at the TV screen, his gaze settled on the blond-haired, blue-eyes boy sitting next to his manager, Paul.

"...NIALL HORAN!" 

X

Niall's always been a dreamer. He's always wanted bigger and better things for himself; mostly, though, he's just always wanted to get out of his too-small hometown. 

Ever since Harry could remember, Niall had dreamed of fame. He'd dreamed of singing and touring the world and living the dream. He'd dreamed of his name in lights, standing under spotlights basking in the sounds and the energy of a live show. 

It was one of the first things he'd learned about Niall. Niall loved to sing. Liked to perform. Adored being the center of everyone's attention. And he was all dyed-blond hair and blue eyes like the ocean and a crooked smile that could rival the brightness of the sun, so of course it was easy for Niall. Hell, Niall was the sun.

So it came as no surprise when Niall told him his dreams, just three weeks into their newfound friendship. At the time, Harry had just smiled and shrugged and told him that of course he'd be a famous singer, because how could he not? The boy was incredible.

And then Niall's parents got divorced when they were 12 and his father moved out and Harry let Niall cry into his shoulder night after night because he knew how it felt. He'd witnessed his own parents' divorce when he was 9, so he was familiar with those kinds of tears and sobs and 'what did I do wrong's. And that's when Niall became truly determined – obsessed. That's when Niall decided that he was going to be a singer and he was going to play music and he was going to tour the world and get the hell out of Mullingar. 

Get the hell out of Mullingar.

Niall didn't hate, Mullingar. Not really. It was just...too small. And Niall didn't want small.

Harry tries to understand and, in a way, he does. He understands that Niall is passionate about music – how can he not when the boy takes his guitar literally everywhere he goes? And he understands that Niall wants to make a career out of singing and playing guitar and performing. And he understands how badly Niall wants it – because there are a few things in Harry's life that he thinks he wants just as badly. But he doesn't understand why he just wants to leave.

Harry doesn't understand it because he loves Mullingar. He's found a home here and it made his family happy again after the divorce; his mum found a new man to love her and his sister doesn't cry the way she used to and he's happy. 

He's never felt the urge to leave; the urge that Niall feels every day – at least, not since Niall shook his hand all those years ago on his first day of school. 

X

Niall thinks that happiness can only be found in the form of guitars and studios and sold out stadiums where his fans scream and cry and sing his songs back to him. Even before Niall becomes famous – Christ, Harry hates that word – and before Paul, his manager, finds him busking on the street one day with literally almost a hundred people watching him – his guitar is what made him happy. Sure, the kid laughed and smiled on a regular basis, but Harry had always known that a part of that was just a front. So when Harry presented him with a brand new guitar for his 15th birthday, using the money he'd saved up from working at the local bakery, it's no surprise that Niall's eyes had lit up like fireworks or that he had squealed and jumped into Harry's open arms and planted chaste kisses all over his face. Niall and the guitar were a package deal after that because the guitar, even if he wasn't playing it, made him happy.

And then Paul did find Niall and he gave the blond a shot and of course he would've been stupid to let it go so Niall took it. He played and sang his heart out for a couple different record labels and Harry thought, while they were all waiting for one of them to draw up a contract, that the suspense might actually kill Niall. Because Niall spent nights upon nights creating circumstances in his head and telling Harry about them and crying because he was afraid that his dreams were already over.

But they weren't; not even close.

It's like one second Niall's shaky left hand was signing his name at the bottom of his contract and the next he was whisked away to small, promotional shows in small venues and recording in an actual studio. And, God, Niall loved the studio – at least according to the multiple texts Harry got a day.

And then small venues became slightly bigger venues and those venues became sold out shows at arenas and stadiums all over the world.

Everyone loved Niall. Everyone.

Girls – and boys – fawned over the 17 year old because he was like the Irish Justin Bieber and the parents adored him because he was all fluffy blond hair and blue eyes and braces and because he was a genuinely good guy – the kind they'd want their daughter to date, anyway – and the media ate him up because he was good-looking and charming and confident. 

Niall had found his happiness out there, singing and playing his guitar and touring the world the way he's always wanted. 

Harry's always found his happiness in dyed-blond tips, blue eyes like the ocean and a smile that could rival the stars and the sun and everything in between. Always. And he'd never questioned it because he was Niall and so of course Niall would make him happy.

He's always found comfort in the silly jokes they shared and the way Niall threw his head back when he laughed really hard and the way he always seemed to know what to say to make everyone's – especially Harry's – day better.

But then Niall went away and, with it, so did Harry’s happiness. Because Niall was busy – like, really busy – and sometimes he didn't have time to Skype anymore and sometimes he forgot to answer his text messages for days and sometimes Harry didn't hear from Niall for weeks at a time. And Harry would have to remind himself that Niall is just busy, that he's living his dream right now, that he hasn't forgot about his family or about Mullingar or about Harry.

But it feels like he has sometimes and so Harry stops trying to contact Niall because he feels like he's being annoying and because he, himself, is annoyed. And it's like Niall doesn't seem to notice.

X

Niall has it all. He has everything he's ever wanted. He has everything he left home for. He's Niall Horan and he has the world in the palm of his hand. He's happy – or at least he thinks he is. Thinks he should be, ought to be. No, no, he is happy. He's just not as happy as he thought he would be. 

Because when he can't sleep and he's alone because everyone else – his band, his team of people – is asleep, it feels as though something's missing. Someone. 

And when he lies awake at night he misses having the company of curly brown hair, green eyes and a cheeky, dimple-y grin belonging to a certain boy back home. [Maybe he was wrong. Or, at the very least, not entirely right.] 

X

Harry thinks he's seeing things when he catches a glimpse of blond hair from across the shop and he has to blink several times before his gaze settles on the boy – man – standing just inside the entrance. His brow furrows, his breath catches in his throat, his chest tightens and his heart plummets into his twisting stomach all at the same time. He feels sick, dizzy – and he can't decide which outcome would be more humiliating: throwing up on his freshly baked muffins or passing out. 

Niall waves and grins – and he looks like a freaking angel. His hair is all fluffy and soft and he's wearing a dark grey t-shirt, black jeans and white Supras; a 'classic Niall Horan look'. The black and white bracelet on his left wrist, one which matches Harry's, doesn't go unnoticed either. 

"Barbara?!" he calls out distractedly, receiving a faint response from the kitchen in the back as he already begins to undo his maroon apron. "I'm gonna take my last break." He doesn't even wait for her next reply before he slips the apron off over his head and tucks it under the counter. He blinks one more time in Niall's direction, forcing the bile in his throat back into his stomach before walking around the counter. He hesitates, but Niall doesn't. 

Niall grins and walks the short distance, past a few of the bakery's regular customers, and throws his arms around Harry's shoulders. Harry can't help the fact that his entire body tenses up at the (now) foreign contact, but Niall doesn't seem to notice because a minute later he's pulling away – and Harry's wishing he would come back now – and he's already talking about how he just landed in Mullingar an hour ago.

Harry's break is only 15 minutes long and Niall uses almost every minute of it talking about this, that and the other thing and on one hand Harry doesn't mind because he's missed the blond's voice, but at the same time he just wants Niall to stop because it's all so overwhelming. So when Harry tells Niall he has to get back work and Niall asks him if they can hang out later, Harry's much too stunned to say anything but yes.

+

It's like one minute he's wondering what the hell – what the hell is he doing here? With him? What the hell is he supposed to say? What the hell are they going to talk about? Because it's been nearly two whole years since they've even spoken properly and what are you supposed to say to someone you haven't even seen in that long either? 

But then in the next second they're both drunk in Harry's new flat – which is closer to the bakery but still not all that far away from his mum's house – and it's just like old times. Like nothing has changed. They talk about everything and nothing, they talk about both their lives; how Barbara will be retiring in four months and she wants Harry to have the bakery and how Niall's career has taken off and even though he's done it a couple hundred times before he still gets nervous performing in front of people – even if it's only a few. They laugh and they joke around and, somehow, it doesn't feel like it's been two years.

"I miss you, Harry," Niall murmurs, the alcohol causing his words to slur slightly. 

And there it is. This is when it starts to feel like it's been two years again and Harry can feel the butterflies in his stomach come to life all over again.

"I...I miss you too, Niall."

"Remember..." Niall trails off, burrowing himself deeper into his side of Harry's old couch as he cranes his neck to look across at Harry, who's avoiding his gaze by staring down the neck of his bottle of beer. "Do you remember that time we went to that party?"

Harry snorts. "We went to a lot of parties, Niall. And chances are, I probably don't remember very many of them," he points out, raising the bottle to his lips to take a long, long sip. 

"That's true."

"Which party?"

Niall thinks for a minute. "Taylor's 17th birthday party; two months before I met Paul." He pauses and Harry makes a point of nodding his head to say that he remembers. "We spent the whole night sitting on the roof watching everyone else make fools of themselves and then we jumped off the roof and into the pool." He laughs at his own memory and Harry can't help but laugh with him because the blonde's laughter has always been contagious. 

"Those were the days, man. Things were just so...simple," Harry sighs.

"We promised each other that we'd always be there, that we'd never lose touch."

Harry blinks, biting the inside of his cheek. "I remember."

"We lost touch, Harry," Niall whispers. He sounds sad and Harry bets that he looks sad too so he refuses to look.

"We didn't 'lose' touch, Niall. You've just been busy." He doesn't know if he's trying to make Niall feel better about the whole thing, or worse. But then again, he supposes, it doesn't really matter. Does it?

Niall sighs. "I know. I...don't even know how it happened."

"You left," Harry whispers. He thinks it's supposed to sound bitter but it, too, just sounds sad. "You captured your dream. You got the bigger and better you'd always wanted. You found what you were looking for."

Niall isn't an idiot. He knows it's his fault and he knows that Harry knows it's fault and that this is Harry's way of telling him without actually accusing him. "I didn't find everything."

Harry isn't sure if it's the alcohol or the butterflies in his stomach that's making him sick, but either way he doesn't want to talk about it anymore. So he closes his eyes and he rests his back against the back of the couch and he sighs. "Sing to me."

Niall pauses and Harry can hear the faint swish of liquid moving within the glass of the lad's beer bottle before he places it on the coffee table and grabs the guitar that is never too far away. "What do you want me to sing?"

"Anything." And Harry truly means it because Niall could literally sing him the dictionary and Harry will love it.

+

They fall asleep on the couch that night and Niall is gone by the time he wakes up. His heart sinks into his stomach at the sudden emptiness of his flat, which is ridiculous because his flat is always empty. And if it weren't for the empties of Niall's favourite beer littering his coffee table, he might've thought it were all a dream. He doesn't see him for the next three days and Twitter does nothing in telling him of his whereabouts. Nobody seems to know where Niall is, which means his coming back home probably wasn't planned and definitely wasn't made public. For all he knows, Niall could be anywhere in the world right now.

But he isn't. Because on the fourth day Niall shows up at the bakery again, only this time Harry's shift is over – it's like Niall remembered Harry saying that his job was quite literally a 9-5 thing – and he doesn't have time to collect his thoughts like he did the last time. He can't send the singer away before they hang out because it's already happening and Niall has made sure of it. 

"Hey," Harry greets him, locking up the shop.

Niall smiles, adjusting his green SnapBack over his fluffy hair before shoving his hands into his pockets. "Take me somewhere."

"Where?"

"Anywhere you want to go."

+

They wind up sitting on the swings at their old primary school playground – which is, incidentally, where they met all those many, many years ago. It feels like a lifetime ago. Harry doesn't speak because, quite frankly, he doesn't trust himself. And Niall looks like he's deep in thought and if he still knows Niall like he hopes he does, the blond with blurt out whatever he's thinking when he's ready and not a moment before. And that moment comes far too quickly for Harry.

"You were wrong."

Harry blinks, digging his boots into the sand mid-swing as he looks at the boy swaying next to him. "What? About what?"

Niall looks at him seriously. "I haven't found everything I was looking for."

Harry snorts, shaking his head. "C'mon, Niall. You have the entire world in your hands. You can do anything you want – go anywhere you want. Everyone loves you. You're gold. You set out to follow your dreams and everything you could ever want a long time ago and you did it."

Niall rolls his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I've got everything but someone to share it with."

Harry shrugs. "Well, you're young. You have plenty of time-"

"No, Harry, you don't get it."

Green eyes blink as he stares in confusion at his friend. He licks his lips. "What...what don't I get?" He thinks he already knows the answer and he wants to hear it – has always wanted to hear it – but he's afraid and his head is beating against his chest and he can feel it in his temples and so before Niall can answer him he's pushing himself to his feet to get away from him. "Actually don't answer that-"

"Harry-"

"I have to get home, I have things to do – I'll drive you back to your parent's-"

"No, Harry, listen," Niall pleads, grasping for his elbow to stop him from walking away.

"Why? Why should I listen to you, Niall?" Harry turns around to glare at the blond and while on one hand he wants to spend the rest of his life just listening to Niall, on the other hand he wants to just run away. And he wants Niall to just go away. Because somehow it's easier to just love Niall from afar – through laptop and television screens and radio stations. "Why are you even here, Niall? You've come back before and never bothered to see me-"

Niall blinks, looking taken aback. "That's not true, I tried. We just didn't have the time-"

"Exactly," Harry spits – and he doesn't mean to sound angry or mean or upset, but he is. "So why now?"

"Because I miss you, Harry! God, I miss you!"

"Since when?" Harry snaps. He knows he's being selfish and unfair. He knows that this life that Niall has is what he's always wanted and that he deserves everything he has and deserves every single aspect of it. And he knows that it's silly to be jealous of everything his best friend has, especially because Harry is quite content with his simple life in this simple town that Niall has always disliked – but he is. He's jealous and he's angry and he's hurt because all Harry wants is to be a part of it. He closes his eyes, realizing how ridiculous he sounds. "Never mind, forget it. Let’s just – let’s just go."

"I've always missed you," Niall replies softly, his feet frozen to the ground. "I've just been so busy that I never realized just how much until last week."

Harry shakes his head. "Niall-"

"Ask me. Ask me what happened last week."

"Niall-"

But Niall ignores him, like he sometimes does, and he continues. "I was sitting in my hotel room in New York after the GMA interview and I was with the lads from the band. They were playing video games on the big screen and they were laughing and joking and a couple of them were getting their knickers in a bunch over FIFA and...I turned around at one point and realized that I was looking for you. I wanted to ask you if you remembered the time we played Mario Cart in your basement for five hours straight before your mum managed to pull us upstairs and feed us. It was so stupid and so random and there really wasn't any point in me wanting to ask you but I really just wanted to talk you. I just wanted to hear your voice and hear you laugh and I wanted to ask you about your day but there's a five hour difference between here and there and it was already after midnight."

Harry blinks rapidly to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall down his cheeks and he licks his lip, fidgeting nervously as Niall takes a step towards him. He knows he's hearing what he's hearing, but it all seems too good to be true. Like he's going to wake up any second and instead of being here, Niall will still be in New York. 

Niall sighs and moves forward again. "I just...I wanted you there. I wanted you with me. I've always wanted you with me."

Harry draws in a shaky breath as Niall lifts both his hands to his face. His left hand curls around the base of his neck, his fingers playing with the short, curly hair at the back of his head and his right hand cups his chin, his thumb stroking the younger boy's cheek. Harry stares at him, afraid he'll disappear if he doesn't, and watches the way Niall's blue, blue gaze flickers down to his lips and then back up to meet his own. 

"Harry, I've spent my whole my life chasing happiness, you know?"

Harry scoffs because, yeah, he knows. And oh, how he remembers. Because after his parents split, all Niall wanted was to just be happy. And so he chased it and tried oh-so desperately to have it; and all Britney and Amy and Josh did was give him happiness just to take it away two, three, six months later. Harry had never wanted to hit anybody more than he had wanted to hit Josh, because he'd been around the longest and their breakup had made Niall cry longer than he'd ever seen anybody cry. And then more recently, of course, there was Demi and Justin. He's parted ways with both of them on 'mutual agreements that it just wasn't working.'

"And music...music made me happy – it's always made me happy, for as long as I can remember. It's the only thing that's always understood me and never let me down." 

Harry wants to tell him that that isn't true, but his words always have a way of failing him when he needs them the most. Unlike with Niall because Niall's always been good with words and Harry doesn't think that words have ever failed Niall. So instead he says nothing and that's fine because Niall isn't finished anyway.

"So when Paul found me...I had to take the chance, Harry. I had to. And then everything just happened so fast and my career just took off and I didn't have time to think about anything else. And I was happy because I had my music, but my heart was still a little bit sad so I tried to be with Demi and Justin and they filled the emptiness in my bed but my heart still hurt and then... Then I realized just how much I missed you. And I realized you've always made me happy, Harry. And my heart never feels empty when you're around."

Harry wants him to stop babbling and just tell him what he really wants to hear. But at the same he never wants him to stop because he's Niall so he just nods dumbly and hopes that Niall understands that, yes, Niall has always made Harry happy too.

"All these years I've spent trying to figure out how the hell I was supposed to be happy, wondering when I'd find it and who it would be with and...it’s always been you, hasn't it?" Niall whispers, pressing his forehead against Harry's. "You've always been there, standing right in front of me and I never saw you. I never saw you until I couldn't see you anymore."

Harry doesn't realize he's crying until Niall kisses away the tears rolling down his cheeks and he wants nothing more than to just fall into his arms and bury himself into his chest. Niall smiles shyly at him – all signs of confidence and babbling gone now.

"Say something," the blond murmurs, brushing his nose against Harry's.

Harry doesn't want to say anything because he isn't good with words and he doesn't want to ruin Niall's speech with the stupidity that might tumble out of his mouth if he tries to speak. And besides, all he really wants is to kiss him. And, he figures, he should. So he's about to, he really is, but then there are words tumbling out of his mouth anyway -

"I can't," he starts, and he realizes he's picked the wrong time to stutter and pause because Niall's looking at him like heart is literally breaking inside of his chest. "No, no, no – I just, I mean – I just mean that I can't be there all the time. I mean, I have the stuff with the bakery next month and so Barbara and I will have to work everything out with the arrangements and, I just, I won't be able to be away for long periods of time, so-"

"Oh! Oh, no, that's – yeah," Niall replies, nodding his head quickly. "Well, I mean, I have another month of promos and stuff for the album, but then I get a few weeks off before the first leg of the tour starts, so..."

"Okay, yeah."

"Yeah. And, I mean, I can fly you out on weekends – or whatever – whenever you have the time. Or I can come back when I have a couple days off – and I know I do. And this time I won't let time get in the way so we can talk on the phone or Skype or whatever, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay," Harry agrees, a smile creeping on his lips because he can't help it. He's happy. 

And Niall doesn't have to chase his happiness anymore

"Anything else you'd like to say?" Niall teases.

"Just kiss me, Horan."

And finally, finally, he does.


End file.
